When We Go, How We Go
by vennat
Summary: "They can take our bones And bury them, deep under the river But we'll, still be together And we cannot be defeated" - Anthem for the Already Defeated (not a song fic)


" _Mr. Stark I don't feel so good, I don't know what's happening, I don't want to go, I'm sorry-"_

Peter feels his fingertips flow away first, blowing in the wind. It's a weird experience, because he can still feel every bit of himself even as it detaches and moves away from his body. He saw the other heroes float away, saw how fast it was for them, and thinks about how long it is for him. He wonders if this is a punishment, for his end to come by slower than the other's, more painfully. Punishment for disobeying Mr. Stark, and leaving Queens defenseless. (The faces of the people he's left behind float through his head. Mr. Stark, MJ, Ned, May, even flash. He had failed them.)

(Was Mr. Stark gonna follow after him? Was it going to be this painful for him? Peter hoped not.)

(He hoped his worst memories wouldn't bounce around in his head, like they were for Peter. He hopes this will be over soon.)

(He hopes for a lot of things.)

It's not long before his eyes, and ears, too, go. Unlike the odd disconnected feeling he gets when his torso blows away, he loses his senses. The last thing he sees is the desperately terrified look on Mr. Stark's face. He wonders if he would cry, if he could.

He feels the long seconds it takes for the left side of him to crumble away into ash, nothingness.

The darkness creeps upon him.

He welcomes it.

He never thought it would be odd to be in one piece. It is.

He cracks open aching eyelids, and sees sees an empty, gray expanse above him. He isn't sure how high it goes, and distantly, he wonders- if he shot a web, would it ever hit the top? (He has an aching feeling that it wouldn't, but he's not quite sure why the thought puts him on edge.)

He sits up, body protesting. Groaning, he puts a hand to his aching head. A wild thought runs through his head, _I'm glad my arms are reattached._ He pauses, before it all rushes back to him. Anxiety joins the dull throb of terror in his veins, and he shoots to his feet.

"Mr. Stark! Tony!" fear cracks his voice. For a beat, there is nothing but the echo of his call.

Then, "Kid… shut up." a gruff voice behind him, but his Spidey-sense stays quiet, so he turns to search for the source. Behind him, stretched out on the floor, lay several forms. A few still seem to be solidifying out of the same gray ash he was- moments?- before.

The owner of the voice sits up, shaggy brown hair disheveled, black and gold prosthetic gleaming in the light- which, now that Peter is aware of, seems to just exist, not come from any specific source. Peter recognized him instantly, from years of history classes, the fight in Germany, and the recent news of superhero fugitives.

"Mr. Winter Soldier sir-" the man holds up a hand, and Peter's mouth shuts with a click.

"I feel like I have a massive hangover. I don't know where I am, but last I saw some giant fucking _grape_ was trying to kill us all. Please, tell me you know what the fuck is going on, Spider-Man. Kid? Spider-kid."

Peter shrugs.

"I've been awake for a solid 10 seconds, man. I have no idea what's going on. And, and, anyways, I'm a man- Spider-Man!" Peter is proud that his voice doesn't crack on it at all. "I don't know what's going on. I don't know where we are and I- I'm sorry. I don't know." panic settles heavy and thick on his chest, the magnitude of what is happening settling on him.

Another man sits up next to the Winter Soldier, and Peter recognizes him easily as another "fugitive of justice", the Falcon. He groans, rubbing at his forehead.

"I feel like I just challenged Steve to a drinking contest. Again." He slips his goggles off his eyes and onto his forehead, huffing out a long breath. Around them, other people begin to sit up. The heroes from Titan, Doctor Strange, King T'Challa. Peter is about to open his mouth, and ask what the _hell_ is going on here, before a shrill scream erupts from behind him. He turns around in time to catch Scarlet Witch, hands burning red, shooting herself several feet into the air.

"-ision!" her eyes are as red as the tendrils of power swirling around her fingers, and her chest is heaving. After a moment, she begins to lower to the ground, but her eyes stay the same color.

Silence reigns, for a moment, before noise breaks out in the room. It hits Peter in a wave of sound, and the panic that had been steadily mounting reaches a peak, and seems to break within him, scattering a numb feeling throughout him and stealing his breath.

His knees sort of- give up. He crumples a little, closing in on himself and trying to heave air into his lungs. They weren't having it.

It feels like hours of heavy breathing, alone on the ground, before the black edges his vision.

A aborted cry of "Kid-" is all he hears before darkness takes him again.

When he surfaces to consciousness next, everything comes back a lot faster. He takes a long moment before he opens his eyes, sending up a prayer to anyone that will listen that he is going to wake up- even on Titan, that barren wasteland of a world, rather than in that pale, terrifying place he was before.

No luck. Opening his eyes, he's still in that- that place. He's really not sure of anything, other than the fact that there is a semi-familiar alien lady leaning over him, fingers pressed to his temples. She has two antennae, which glow blue above him.

Peter jerks away from her, sitting up so fast his head spins, spots dancing across his sight. He finds his balance quickly, and a curious glance around himself reveals all the other heroes, muttering quietly between themselves. The human (?) alien who was on Titan with shoots him an anxious look, before his eyes widen noticeably when he realizes Peter is awake.

"The kid's up." his voice is louder than the murmur they all spoke in a few moments ago. Once he speaks, everyone turns to look at him.

The alien lady who was leaning over him walks over to the blue-skin-red-scars guy. Peter follows her lead, and scoots on his butt over to the other heroes. He knows he looks ridiculous, but worries he'll crumple again if he stands.

"Um… hey." the Falcon snorts.

"Hey yourself, kid. Freaked out on us a bit there, didn't ya?" the man with a metal arm- _Sergeant Barnes!_ his brain screams- nudges him. When he speaks, his accent is thick, and very much Brooklyn.

"Leave him alone Sam. If you were 12, wouldn't you do the same?" all the hero worship thoughts gets sucked from Peter's brain like a vacuum.

"Hey!" he squawks indignantly. "I am _not_ 12\. I'm an adult. I'm a man." a guy in a red cape who, now that Peter is watching, is levitating several inches off the ground, snorts.

"Yeah, no. You're 16, tops, but likely closer to 15." Peter's breath stutters out of him.

"H-how-"

"No mask. Makes it pretty obvious."

Peter leans backward, splaying out onto his back and groaning. His hands cover his naked face.

"Why is this my life." an accented voice answers his question.

"You chose this life, child." Peter shrugs, but the effect is sort of lost as he lays on the ground.

"Not really. Great power, great responsibility and all that." Peter sits back up, ignoring the odd looks sent in his direction. "So, who are you guys?"

"I am Groot!" cheerfully crows a… tree? Whatever, Peter has seen weirder. He waves to Groot.

"I'm Spider-Man. Nice to meet you." Groot smiles at him. The human dude from Titan next to him mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "teenagers," but Peter chooses to ignore him.

"Spider-Man," asks Sergeant Barnes, "it looks like we're about to be spending a lot of time together. It would make me feel better to have an actual name to call you. Plus, I'd assume none of us are villains or crooks. Anymore, at least. I think your real name is safe."

Peter hesitates for a moment.

"Bucky," the mans says, sticking his hand in Peter's direction. An invitation.

Peter grasps his hand.

"Peter Parker." he says, trying his absolute best not to fangirl over meeting _the_ Bucky Barnes. Before he can open his mouth and spew something that would definitely embarrass him, another voice interrupts him, loud and booming.

"Peter! You have the same name as our Peter! Quill, this child has stolen your name!" the blue-skin-red-scars guy cackles. The human alien guy, who Peter now knows is _also_ Peter, let's out a frustrated groan.

"Drax, I swear to God, how many time do I have to tell you to call me Star-Lord in front of other people! You're ruining my street cred, dude!" Peter snorts.

"Dude… street cred? What year is it in space? No one talks like that anymore."

"Peter, you're a millennial. You have no say in the slang people use."

Bucky, next to him, mutters "whomst'd've" with a slightly horrified expression on his face. Peter shrugs.

"Fair." Falcon grins, and sticks out his hand in greeting.

"Sam Wilson, nice to meet you. Wish it was under better circumstances." he cracks a wry grin.

He looks around the small group, seeing if there is anyone else he hasn't met. Scarlet Witch waves a little at him.

"Wanda," Peter waves back. The last person there is King T'Challa, and Peter gives him a respectful decline of the head, but the man immediately objects.

"No, no, we do not bow in my country. Please, he holds out a gloved hand, claws retracted, and shakes Peter's hand.

"T'Challa," Peter smiles, stuffs down the awestruck feelings inside himself, and shakes the man's hand.

"It is absolutely amazing to meet you, Mr. Highness sir. I've been looking at the recent tech that Wakanda has shown the world, and that stuff is amazing! It's so far beyond even what Mr. Stark has, and his stuff is amazing! I-"

T'Challa holds up a hand, and Peter's mouth clicks shut. The man smiles kindly at him.

"While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I understand very little of the technology of my country. My sister, Shuri, creates it all. You two would get along well," the smile on his face turns painful. "when we see her again."

Peter gives him his own tight smile.

"Don't worry, Mr. Panther, if she's smart enough to create all that tech, she is definitely smart enough to stay safe."

Drax and Groot catch his attention next, when Groot sends a tiny flower spinning through the air towards T'Challa. When Peter turns to the small clump surrounding Groot, the human one flashes him a peace sign.

"Hey, other Peter. I'm Star-Lord," he shoots a pointed look at Drax. "but I guess for confusion's sake, you can call me Quill. I'm the leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy. That's Mantis," he points to the green lady who was leaning over him earlier. " this is Drax, and you already introduced yourself to Groot. We have-" he pauses for a second, collects himself. "we had another member. Gamora. Thanos- Thanos killed her. Our last guy, Rocket, we don't know where he is." he looks anguished for a second, before its replaced with a cocky smile. "But I'm sure that asshole is fine. Got the damn God of thunder with him…" he grumbles.

"Any chance your friend is a raccoon? With terrible language and an affinity for weapons, and stealing limbs?" Quill brightens immediately at Bucky's words.

"Yeah! That's him. Oh, god," the relief on his face is impossibly great. "thank fuck. If that shit head had died I would have killed him." Peter decided not to comment on the logic of that.

Now that he knows who everyone is, he can't hold back his questions any longer.

"Anyone know where we are? Or how long we'll be here?" around him, the others shake their heads, and Peter feels the first trill of something ominous in the pit of his stomach.

It's been a few days, and nothing new has occurred. Peter has learned a lot about the people around him. With nothing much to do, they either spar or talk until their voices give out.

At least with sparring he feels as if he's accomplished something, improving on his hand to hand.

(A small voice in the back of his head taunts, _what's the point if improving if you never get out of here?)_

They never grow tired, hungry, or thirsty. He still sleeps a lot; dreams of food and home, material comforts, and the people he left behind.

It doesn't help.

He wonders how long they will be here for. If there's some way to escape that they haven't thought of or tried yet.

He wonders if he'll be stuck here forever.

They've spent what they can only assume to be weeks in this eternal twilight. Peter has given up hope that they will escape this hell.

(He doesn't let on though.)

He continues talking with the others of what they'll do when they're out- what they'll eat, who they'll see. Talks of his plans for the future- college, career.

(He doesn't think he'll ever get out of here to see it. It's as much a dream as the faces of his friends, his aunt, every time he closes his eyes.)

Peter stares up into the nothingness above him, hears the sounds of Sam and Bucky behind him, sparring. Doesn't turn his head to watch. His eyes slip closed.

He opens them again to Titan, and that same recurring nightmare of blowing away in the wind.

(He wishes it were only a dream.)

He hears Mr. Stark calling his name, and he wants to say so much, but all he can do is apologize and tell him he's scared. He wishes he had told Mr. Stark to keep MJ, Ned, and May safe. But he was selfish.

He begins to surface from the dream, lucidity coming back. Not quickly enough, he supposes, because he can still hear Mr. Stark calling his name.

He opens his eyes again to the nothingness.

Except-

It's not nothingness.

Mr. Stark is peering through a- a tear? In the gray expanse above him. The grin on his face is impossibly large.

"Peter! We found you! We-" his laugh is slightly hysterical. "we fucking found all of you, holy shit!"


End file.
